mY pEt mOLLy

I was at a hotel with friends and family. I was the photographer of some rich mexican family. He wanted me to document everything about his stay at the hotel for about a month. So since it was that long I brought along my long haired hamster molly. She was a peculiar little thing. Anything would stun her, she would die, “oh there goes molly again, dying”. About a minute after death a new molly would burst out of her belly, a brand new baby hamster to raise. There were tons of molly carcasses around the hotel. Also, I think it was the 1930’s. I was in a locker room with Robert, and it was all black people. We were both considered black though cause I am mestizo and he is Irish. He was telling me about his engagement with a certain gal he’d had an eye on for a while, who was much older than him. I asked how old she was he said “38” and he continued on saying “16 years isn’t bad, she’ll be able to stop having children in about 3 years. I don’t have to worry about anything after that”. I rolled my eyes and walked off. I went off to take pictures of the family who wanted me to emphasize the fact that they had about 30 body guards. While molly was on my shoulder. The END!



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